


confess the flame her tongue denies

by Wallyallens



Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV)
Genre: F/M, Friends to Lovers, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Love Confessions, Post 2x14, RipFic, post moonshot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-19
Updated: 2017-03-19
Packaged: 2018-10-07 14:13:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,717
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10362243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wallyallens/pseuds/Wallyallens
Summary: Post 2x14 'Moonshot'. Rip and Sara continue drinking in his office, and their argument from earlier flares back up. Sara is angry about being time-scattered, but not for the reason Rip assumes, and they have a whole lot of bad luck when it comes to timing.





	

**Author's Note:**

> following on my tradition of naming my fics from whatever I'm studying this week at uni, the title is from the opera 'Dido & Aeneas'. don't forget to follow me on tumblr @jeffersonjaxson, where I am always taking requests :)

It took another four or five drinks for things to start to fall apart.

Rip and Sara knocked back the alcohol, pouring glass after glass and barely tasting the amber liquor and looking everywhere except at one another. It’s a routine they settled into quickly; stealing quiet, longing glances but always dropping their gaze when it lingered a moment too long and they were caught. As dances went, it wasn’t their best one.

After her fourth drink, Sara got twitchy. The hand on her glass became fidgety, turning it over and over so the whiskey inside twisted and broke in waves; tapping her fingers on the rim so her metal ring made a dull noise against the surface. She tapped to fill the space, wanting to stop herself from doing so with the words she really wanted to say, because some things were best left unsaid. Ripping off band aids might be the best solution sometimes, but other times all it did was let infection in. What she wanted to say could save or break them, and it was risk of poisoning whatever semblance of normality they had won back if she did, so silence was the option that left them time to heal.

But it was bugging the shit out of her, the weight of her wonderings. Those burning words on the tip of her tongue. It made her heavy. Like a cloud waiting on a thunderstorm to rain, grey and tearing at the seams, ready to burst and let it all go. But words weighed with lead struck like bullets, she knew, and Rip had already been through enough.

Impatiently, Sara held her tongue. She tapped her fingers, stood and sat every few minutes, and just about wore a hole in the carpet from pacing, each step more sluggish than the last. Compared to her almost manic pacing and stirring, Rip sat in his armchair with an odd stillness. The former captain sat staring pensively into his half-empty glass, like there wasn’t a bomb about to go off in the room, both so involved in not looking at the other that they almost missed it.

For his part: Rip felt her unease and noticed Sara’s unspoken words. His eyes were either on his drink or on _her_ , and he was trying to use one to dull the sting of the other.

“Sara,” he said quietly, after about twenty minutes of the sound of her tapping fingers and abrupt pacing.

It seemed to surprise both of them when the silence was broken. Not that it was silent, exactly – the absence of sound in the room was more of a static quiet filled with noises they made to avoid what they really wanted to say. Either way, Sara started and stopped pacing, instead fixing him with eyes on the edge of being glassy and still shockingly clear blue. Rip met a gaze that intense as best he could: which was not well at all, focusing on the freckles lining her cheeks like constellations so he didn’t get caught in her eyes.

“Whatever you want to say – just say it. This is . . .” Ignoring the way his voice caught slightly, Rip waved a hand between them, indicating that very metaphorical elephant crashing around. “This is worse than anything you have to say.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about-”

The words were too quick to be anything other than a lie. Honesty was slow; it took thought to be true, but lies came fast and easy as the descent into hell. As soon as they were out of her lips, Sara seemed to realise the futility of her pretence. Deflating slightly, her shoulders dropped as she leaned against his desk, pushing her glass to her lips and taking a long sip. Closing her eyes, she appeared to gather herself for a moment. Rip felt vaguely like he was facing a tsunami and all that was left to do was watch the rising wave reach its height before it eclipsed and consumed him.

“Sara,” he said again. Her name was a prayer, and he held it on his tongue with reverence. “Whatever it is, just say it.”

She held his gaze for a second, then dropped it and shook her head. It was a tense movement, the weight of her shoulders and the flick of yellow hair like a coiled spring pushed to its limit. Sara hunched over the desk, hands at her sides with a white-knuckled grip on the wood.

“Please.”

“Okay,” said Sara softly. She opened her eyes. “I’m mad at you.”

Rip tilted his head in acknowledgement. “I gathered.”

“But you don’t understand. I’m _angry_ , Rip. Angry deep down, in my bones and my blood and my _soul_ like I haven’t been in a long time.” Sara caught his eye. They both knew what she was talking about: a moment bathed in red and the thud of a knife sinking into the floorboards. And Rip. Rip shouting her name. “You – you time scattered us without even asking, you-”

“I was _trying_ to save your lives!” Rip cut in without meaning to. It was instinct to self-preserve more than a challenge to what she had to say. He regretted it at the sharp look her got in return, so added on. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to . . . I just want you to understand. It was never an action of malicious intent, Sara. I never wanted you to be put in danger, and I’m sorry that you were.”

Sara locked him with a dead stare, her eyebrow curling in shocked frustration. “You think _that’s_ what I’m upset about?”

Rip sat back in his chair a little, leaning away from her. In reaction, his eyes widened then squinted again in confusion and his nose scrunched up, mouth gaping for a second as he tried to formulate a response. “Well . . . yes?”

“Unbelieveable,” Sara snapped, turning her back on him to pour another drink. She fumed, huffed a breath, and heard him do the same behind her.

“Oh, I’m sorry, was you shouting at me about time scattering you not about me time scattering you?” Rip muttered at her back, darkly sarcastic. Just as she turned back to him in anger, he raised his voice challengingly, “Of course! How stupid of me not to realise.”

And there he was. Rip Hunter, the man who deflected conflict expertly and would rather make low comments than shout and fight for what he thought or felt. In all the time they had known each other – and for most of that time, they had fought a fair amount – this is what happened: Rip and Sara got annoyed with one another, they shouted loud and fast until the anger burnt out, and then they made painful jabs at one another for a distance until something came along and blew the fight over.

They _never_ talked. They never fixed things, or faced what both of them knew was growing between them. Or they talked, and he made a self-deprecating joke, and she smiled and let it the lie go on because it was easier to do that than to face Rip honestly. Sara was getting sick of it. She wanted to know where they stood, where the lines were drawn between them, rather than this endless pull and push routine where they fell together and apart without ever fully colliding.

Rip took an inadvisable gulp of his own glass, draining it, before standing and breezing past her to re-fill his own drink. Sara’s remained untouched in her hand, due to her open-mouthed staring at him until he was out of sight. Then, she turned, grabbed him by the shoulder to bodily spin him around, and shook her head right in his face.

“No, you don’t get to fucking do that,” Sara hissed angrily, stepping up to Rip. She jabbed a finger in his chest, enough to pinch through the distinct haze of the alcohol. “You don’t get to decide what’s right for everyone else and then hide when you’re called out on it! We’re talking about this, _now_ , because I’m sick of never knowing where you and I stand.”

“What’s that got to do with anything?”

“It’s got _everything_ to do with this!”

“Then why don’t you just _tell me_ why you’re angry?” Rip bit back, just as full of fire as she was. It was what made them both stronger together and dangerous as matches and gasoline. “Because in case you didn’t notice, neither of us are meta-humans, and I _certainly_ didn’t become a mind reader in the past five minutes!”

She kind of wanted to punch him for never being able to talk without the snark or face her unguarded, but Sara just felt something snap as she stepped away from him, eyes burning suddenly and an entirely new blur overcoming them. Sara backed off, shaking her head as she ran a hand through her hair, and Rip saw something break in her.

When she spoke, her voice cracked.

“Are you really so ready to die?”

Instantly, Rip felt the world fall away from him and fall silent, unable to reach her through the fog of her hurt now shrouding them. It knocked him out. It tore him apart. Rip was left staggering back as if the words were blows, stunned wordless himself and feeling his mouth grow dry as it fell open, trying to find an answer and lacking one.

There was a moment when Sara gave him a chance to answer. She watched him through tear-stained eyes, almost pleading for him to disagree; she needed him to say that he is ready to live, because he was too important to her. So when he didn’t say a goddamned thing, it felt like another loss. It took only a few seconds longer for the sadness in her eyes to harden as her tears dried, becoming stony as a seed of anger took root and bloomed once more.

“So that’s it, then? You just . . . give up?” Sara asked helplessly. Blinking furiously, she stepped closer to him again, eyes and tongue sharp as steel. “You – you die, and we’re all just _left here_. What did you think was gonna happen? You time scattered us so you could commit your noble _fucking_ martyr suicide and then what? What happens to us?”

“Exactly what did happen: you carry on,” Rip answered, too hollow to be anything but honest. “That’s why I left the message. I hoped – I knew you’d find each other again. I wanted it to be you who carried on this mission.”

“That wasn’t your decision to make!”

“Of course it was,” he replied, helplessly. “I was the Captain. This was _my_ mission, none of you would have been there if it weren’t for me – I wasn’t about to let any of you die for that, not if I could help it. I time scattered you so that you had a chance. It wasn’t much - but it was all I had.”

Shaking her head, Sara pushed Rip away by the shoulders when he tried to step closer to her. With those big sad eyes swimming with regret and sadness, it would have been so easy to cave and let him close again; to let him touch her, hug her or hold her, and end the conversation there. She would have fallen for those eyes at any other time. It was what she would have done, before all this. But it had gone too far this time, so she held him at arm’s length and took three steps backwards.

“It still wasn’t your choice to make,” she hissed at him through gritted teeth. Despite her best efforts to blink them away or choke them back, she was coming dangerously close to tears, as they threatened her vision and made her voice sound small. “I – I would have stayed with you, if you’d have asked. I would have stayed until the end.”

“I know,” Rip said simply, with a small movement which could have been a shrug, if he weren’t so exhausted even minimal movement felt unthinkable. “That’s why I couldn’t tell you.”

“ _Rip_ -”

“I couldn’t risk you,” he said, more firmly this time. Rip raised his gaze to hers. Finding it suddenly hard to breathe, she held it, aware that the world had just changed again. After a moment, Rip shook his head slowly. He looked exhausted. “I was wrong. The silence was better.”

Silence took a hold of the room for a moment, and this time it was complete. It was not the pin-prick silence which left the world void of sound, when anything would have broken it and the world held its breath in anticipation of the next loud moment. It was stronger than that. That kind of silence was too easily broken to be complete; too prone to distraction. No, it was the kind of silence which filled the air around them, like cotton wool fogging up the space, dense and packed so it was hard to breathe, that kind of quiet. The ships engines still hummed as they always did, and their own ragged breathing was audible, but it was a silence all the same: the noise was white, blurring into the background with every passing heartbeat.

It was the kind of silence where the world was there, but just faded. Just easy enough to forget that it stilled perfectly, just for a moment, just for them. The kind of silence where they could have been the only two people in the world.

Sara fixed him with a long look, and her next words are not an accusation. “You expected to die.”

“I don’t know.”

“Did you want to?”

And at that quiet question, barely a choked whisper out of Sara’s lips, Rip wanted to cry. All thoughts about appearance or reputation had left him long ago, because all he wanted to do facing that was to weep, unashamedly and like a child; to fall down and hide behind his hands because it was – it was too big. It was inescapable and about to engulf him. And he didn’t know the answer to that.

“I didn’t want to leave you,” he said instead. To say anything else would be a lie, because he didn’t know himself yet, and he didn’t want to lie anymore. “I just find it hard to see a future for myself. I hoped I would see you again. More than _anything_ , I hoped to find you all again someday. But I knew there was a chance the ship would be destroyed, and I couldn’t risk you being there if it was.”

Sara looked pained at that. “But you’d risk yourself.”

“Your life is worth mine a thousand times,” Rip replied simply. “I’d do it again.”

There’s no self pity in his voice, it’s just the truth as he saw it – any time, any day, whatever route left Sara the best chance of carrying on another day was the one he would take. Because as long as he had been a black hole, unable to do anything but steal light, she had been a solar flare blazing through the sky and burning even in his darkest places. But even as he spoke the words, they fall flat. Sara swore under her breath and drank heavily, turning her shoulder to him.

“That’s the problem. You go around trying to sacrifice yourself, and that’s – it’s not _fair_ , Rip, to keep doing that-”

“I didn’t do it to hurt you.”

“Well you did! I missed you, so much it _hurt_. I walked around this place and I could feel where you should have been, but you just . . . weren’t,” Sara shook her head. As she talked, one hand made a motion towards her chest, as if to grab it, when she spoke of the pain. “And I needed you here. Because I stepped up, I did my best – but it wasn’t easy, leading this team.”

“Tell me about it.”

The joke was so sudden she almost laughed. _Almost_. A choked half-snort left her lips instead, so fleeting it took only a heartbeat so fall silent again. Sara looked up. Rip was still standing by his desk, looking a little forlorn and lost.

“And that’s not true,” Sara said after a pause. “About your life being somehow worth less than mine. We’re all . . . every one of us on this ship, right; we’re all looking for something. Redemption. Opportunity. A chance to get out and do something worthwhile. And I know – I know how hard it is, okay? To give a shit. To feel like a fraud for being here because the rest of the world doesn’t see the monster you are-”

“You’re not a monster, Sara.”

“And neither are you! That’s the point. All of us are fighting something, but we keep fighting ** _. I_** keep fighting. And it’s hard, and it feels pointless sometimes, but you do it anyway. I – I was lost before I met you. I understand what you said about not being able to see a future because I’ve felt the same way!” Sara sucked in a sharp breath, “ _Jesus_ , Rip. Between the Island and the League and coming back from the _dead_ , I never expected to have a future that meant something, let alone to ever feel at home again. But I did. Here, _with you_ , because you gave me a life worth living and believed in me.”

Sara was shouting now, blazing up. Each phrase was punctuated with a step closer to him, like lightning after thunder.

“So there’s your future, Rip – you stay here with us and you fight, because I believe in you too. And if I can get better, then you can live to see that day as well.”

She was close to him now, close enough that she rested on her toes to look into his eyes, and would only have to reach out to touch him. Rip didn’t move away. There was still something guarded, just behind his eyes, but there always was – that was a part of him, but even now, his eyes softened a little. Rip held her gaze, and when she moved closer, he leaned into her a little, swaying on the balls of his feet.

Something shifted, and he looked down at his shuffling feet. “– did they really try to hang you?”

“Like I would have let them,” Sara replied with a snort. She sent him a gentle tap on the shoulder, to make him lift his head again. “You know that’s not what I’m angry about, right?”

He nodded, “I know.”

“I didn’t care that you time scattered us, Rip. I didn’t care that I was stranded. I care about _you_. I’m angry because you’re still – still – so ready to just leave me like that again.” She blinked, and a tear slid down her cheek. It slipped off her face; landing somewhere on the floor between them with a hiss at it struck the metal. “I’ve watched you disappear too many times. And today, you tried to do it again. As soon as we needed someone to sacrifice themselves so we could re-enter the atmosphere, you were on your feet.”

Rip sighed. “I was just trying to be useful again.”

“You’re not useful if you’re dead! You’re just . . . gone. And I don’t want to lose you again.”

“ _I’m sorry_.”

The apology left him in a breath. Warm air rushed out of Rip’s lungs, and Sara was so close she felt the words at the same time she heard them, brushing against her face as he let them free. Rip’s voice changed, as he said it. The voice that rang sharp, rang true, could say too much or too little, and lied and inspired and could make a bunch of misfits follow him to the ends of the Earth faltered; everything certain about Rip faded into sepia tones, everything steadfast grew weary and crumbled, until he bowed his head in a way that revealed the true weight of all that hopelessness.

If she said that her heart didn’t break for him in that moment, Sara would be lying.

Instead, she reached out a hand to tuck under his chin, lifting his head up so Rip’s eyes were on hers again. Although the beard under her fingers scratched, and his eyes drifted with uncertainty over her face, and she herself was barely holding back the flood, something about holding him that way felt right. Sara kept a hand on the side of his face, against the line of his jaw, and stood quietly with him for a moment.

“I don’t want you to apologise for what you feel, Rip. I understand how hard it can be – better than most people.” Sara took a breath, head tilting with sympathy, “But I can’t take away your pain and tell you that everything is going to be okay. I can’t stop you from feeling this way – I wish I could. If I could fight it all for you, I would. But I can’t. You have to do that for yourself. You have to decide if there’s something worth sticking around for.”

Rip winced, looking forlorn. Which was his usual expression, but it appeared even more miserable than usual with the added bonus of bruised cheekbones and fogged up eyes. “I never said I wanted to leave again. It was a split-second reaction to the situation.”

“And the fact that your first reaction is to sacrifice yourself is what worries me. I need to know that you’re not gonna check out on us again.”

“It was never like that. I never – in my mind, it was never about leaving you, but about _saving_ you! My intention was not to – to leave you with my absence, but with your lives. That has always been my objective.”

Sara felt something bubble up in the pit of her stomach again. That uneasy concern which wanted to lock Rip in his quarters rather than risk him doing something noble again – which was, she supposed, exactly the way he felt when sacrificing himself for the rest of them. It was irritating, and doubly so because she _understood_.

“You think I don’t feel the same way about you?” she snapped, too fast to keep her emotions in check. Sara felt them flare up inside of her and spill out in the hot words. “Do you really think so little of me to believe that I wouldn’t do the same for you?”

“It’s not about thinking little of you, Miss Lance. The opposite is true! I think so highly of you that you eclipse everybody else, in fact. I would give my life for anyone on this team. Gladly. But for you-” Rip leaned back against the desk with an incredulous laugh, one which tore from the tongue and echoed strangely; he fixed her with a second look. “Sara, if I had wanted to die, I would have flown the Waverider into the sun all those months ago. It would have been over then. Whether or not things would have been better, I cannot say . . . but I chose to live. For this team. And for you – you were a big part in that. I don’t think you little, or a monster, nor do I see you as my replacement. You’re better than that. You’re . . . everything.”

Towards the end of the speech, Rip’s courage seemed to fail him. The muster he had built up during his speech, the dull lack of energy replaced by animated gestures with his hands and an ember sparking up behind those green eyes. Where only minutes before, his words had fallen flat and empty, Rip’s voice grew in strength when she spoke of her, in a way that slipped with ease from his silver tongue as if his heart was like to burst free alongside them. For just a moment – Rip was back. The rip from before the Legion and all the almost-dying, and he stood before her, shining so brightly.

Sara would have smiled; she felt one start to stretch at the corners of her lips in relief at seeing him come back to life again, until she realised exactly what he was saying. Or more accurately – what he was not. The intention between the words unsaid, and the way he glowed with – no, she wouldn’t even think it.

At the end, he paused before the final word, his hand stretching out between them before falling limply at his side. Rip’s eyes dimmed as he looked away, embarrassed, to rub a hand against the back of his neck. When he finally looked back at her, he looked sheepish and uncertain.

Sara stared right back. Her face had frozen between the almost-smile and the stricken thoughts of what he meant, causing her to blink a few times when the praise finally stopped.

“What do you mean you stayed alive ‘for me’? What did I . . .” she finally started to ask, before trailing off. Sara’s mouth was open, but the words remained lodged painfully in her throat.

“Oh,” Rip replied quietly. He turned a special shade of crimson. “I just – I meant, after everything you had just suffered – after Laurel. I didn’t want to die and leave you with that burden and nothing else. I thought . . . some part of me thought that if I could show that I could survive losing my family, if I could live beyond that and see what was on the other side . . . that you might, too. I thought it might give you hope, to know it was possible to live after the impossible has happened. And . . .”

Rip snapped his lips shut. Unsatisfied, Sara prompted. “And what, Rip?”

“I didn’t want you to have to go through that alone in the way I did.”

This time, the sound cracking the room was Sara sudden release of air from her lungs, coming out in a whimper. Clamping a hand over her lips as they trembled, she took a few steps backwards; Rip rose almost as soon as she moved, looking terrified and desperate. He wanted to reach out to her and comfort her, she knew. Half of her wished that he would.

“It was that at the start, Sara. I . . . I just wanted to be the friend to you that you had been to me,” he went on softly. “Of course I wanted to see for myself, too. But I didn’t want you to be alone, so I found a way to live that day. And we did – do you remember those months after Savage? I never thought I’d think of them so fondly, but in between the missions and getting through each day, it was good, wasn’t it?” Through the vague haze of holding back tears, Sara managed a wet laugh at that, nodding her head. Encouraged, Rip kept talking, stepping closer. “For a while it was good. Our team, this ship – you. It saved me. So it may have started out as trying to live to prove to you that it was possible to get better, but after a while – it _was_. Things changed after a while, though.”

The words sounded off. Not in an obvious way – there was a tightness in them, which only became clearer as her eyes stilled and dried, blinked away to replace the hazy picture with his face. Rip looked unsure of himself again, hands balled under the folds of his sleeves; holding something back.

“What changed?”

She was asking, because it felt like a night to be honest. Sara was tired of fighting, of hurting. She wanted the peace that came from hearing and speaking the truth, if only for a moment.

“I . . .” Rip hesitated. Under her gaze, he faltered and then sighed. “I did.”

Sara was not giving him an out this time.“How?”

“I began to care about you in an entirely different way. It stopped being about trying to get through each day, and started being about standing by your side for as long as you’d let me. I began to like the days spent fighting with you. Or just spending time with you. And things were, unexpectedly, _better_.”

The same lump which had been making it hard to speak migrated through Sara’s body, sinking down to rest above her heart. It made each beater harder, like there was stone pressing down coldly inside of her chest, but it was a cold that burned.

“Rip,” she said softly. “Do you love me?”

There was a lot of ways he could have answered that question.

 _Quietly_ , he could have said _. Desperately. Longingly. Hopefully. In a soft way, tender as the fragile dawn which broke upon the future he never anticipated._

“Maybe,” Rip said instead. There was a time for the weight to be shed, but to admit even half of it in a single world felt like the burdens of worlds lifting from his shoulders. “I might have. I thought I did.”

“That’s a lot of uncertainty,” Sara replied. But there wasn’t a trace of hurt in her voice, only slight amusement to the twist of her lips. It was sad and hopeful all at once. The kind of dangerous hope which only came after a long time of denying simple truth.

“You make me nervous,” Rip answered. She seemed to be considering his words, but looked neither horrified nor overjoyed, so he decided there was nothing left to be lost. Rip held his pride loosely in his grip; not released entirely, but certainly not something he’d cling to. There was simply no point, in the infinite vastness of space, to not be wholly true to himself because of notions of pride or masculinity. “But I suppose, if I left my goodbye message again today – I’d say it. This time around, I would say that I loved you.”

“Why?”

“Because if I’ve gained anything from . . .” Rip waved an uncomfortable hand, indicating himself, her, and every shitty thing that had happened in the past few months. He chose the words carefully, “all of this, its perspective. I don’t want to waste any more time-”

Sara couldn’t help herself. “-Ironic.”

“-Not saying things that are true,” Rip finished, although his lip quirked up at her dry comment. “And it is true, you know.” His voice cracked a fraction, “It still is.”

There was a moment where Sara looked at Rip, and he stared right back, and if it were some sappy romance flick or the end of an action movie, they probably would have soared into each other arms in a dramatic lip-lock as the screen faded to black. But this was not a movie. Things were not perfect, and any happy ending only lasted for as long as it took for them to find the next fight. The truth was that they were messy, damaged, but infinitely hopeful people; and it was enough for the words to be said. Instead of any of that, Sara found herself laughing lowly after a moment, smiling wide in a way that made her cheeks hurt , but it burned in a good way.

Sara laughed loud, and Rip looked entirely put-out by the reaction. Pouting, he downed his drink, rolled his eyes, and muttered under his breath, “And you wonder why I never talk to you people?”

“I-I’m sorry,” Sara said between her laughing, gasping quick breaths. “I just can’t believe that we’re the unluckiest people in history.”

Rip blinked when she collapsed into giggles again, head tilted to one side. “I don’t understand.”

“You! You, loving me in a time where I was so focused on the present that I missed the obvious. I was so . . . so _angry_ , back then. I was getting through each day. I never even thought you might . . .” Sara trailed off, looking at him as if he were a miracle, as if she couldn’t believe her eyes or ears. She shook her head, “But then as soon as you were gone . . . I didn’t realise ‘til then, Rip. I genuinely didn’t have a clue. But then you went missing, and I just – I was lost without you. You were gone and there was just this huge unfillable absence where you were supposed to be! And I felt it – I felt it, _here_ ,” Sara laughed again, tapping a hand over her heart. She was walking back towards him now, caught between a laugh and a look of surprise, and she had never looked so full of life. “While you were here and loving me, I wasn’t ready to be loved. And then when you vanished . . . it took me until then to know it, _really_ know it, know it in a way I could feel. But I think I must have loved you, too.”

She stopped with a shake of her head a shade disbelieving, and beamed at him. It took another full minute for Rip to replace his own stunned expression with a slow, steady smile.

“It seems we have the worst of timing, Miss Lance.”

“That sounds about right,” she replied. “It is _us_ , after all.”

Bashfully, Rip dropped his gaze, shoving his hands deep into his pockets and addressing the floor. “And now? Has anything . . . changed?”

For the second time, Sara used her fingers to tilt his head up, tipping his face up to hers again. She grinned, kissed him solidly on the lips, and was smiling the entire time. He still tasted of cheap whiskey and the ship still smelled faintly of burning, but she wouldn’t have changed a thing. It felt like . . . _finally_.

“Idiot,” she said, leaning back. “You have to stop doing that, you know.”

“Doing what?”

“Believing you’re not loved. And I’m not just talking about me now, I’m talking about all of them. _Your team_. They fought to find you just as much as I did, and they _do_ love you, Rip – all of them. Even if they’re all as bad at showing it as you are at believing it.”

Rip half-laughed at that. It was still slightly self-deprecating, looking at her from the tips of her fingers before ducking his gaze for a second, but he wouldn’t be Rip if he wasn’t that way. After a moment, he nodded, taking the hand from under his chin and pressing it once to his lips before letting it fall, their fingers wound together. He nodded and squeezed her fingers.

“It’s good to be home. I know I haven’t said it, and I’m sorry that I worried you earlier, but . . . I’m trying. I think now that I’m home, I can do that. Now that I have you-”

“And I’m not going anywhere,” Sara replied, trying not to flush red at that. Heat rose in her cheeks, so she hid it by raising her hand to brush a stray strand of hair out of her eyes. “But it can’t just be me – you can’t put your reason for living on a person. It’s not fair on either of us.”

“I know that,” Rip said surely, nodding. “I do. But you make it easier to see the rest. All those people and things worth living for. They may always be there, but you, Sara, you shine a light on them.”

“Flatterer,” she snorted. “Don’t think that will get you anywhere. I might love you, but I do think that we should wait to see whatever _this_ is,” she meant them, and they both knew it, “until after the Legion is gone.”

“So there we go – the wrong timing yet again.”

“No,” Sara shook her head. The hand she was holding, she covered with her second hand and felt the warmth rush and crackle around her fingers like electricity. “Because I’m not letting you go this time. Never again. This is just . . . a raincheck. _To be_ _continued_.”

“To be continued,” Rip echoed, vague smile on his face. “Isn’t that the story of our lives?”

“Rip.” Sara bit her lip, face drawing itself into serious lines again. She looked down at their hands and took a breath. When she met his eyes again, her expression was sharp and concerned. “I need you to promise me that you won’t do anything like this ever again. _Even if_ we’re in danger, _even if_ the world’s about to end – no more sending me away or trying to sacrifice yourself. You have to trust me. That’s non-debatable; you have to tell me the truth from now on, and trust me to make my own decisions - even if that is to die by your side.” Even as she said the words, Rip flinched at the thought. He was leant against the desk still, so couldn’t take a step away, but he did draw his head away from hers quickly, looking as if he’d been punched in the stomach. Sara loosened her grip on his hands to take him by the shoulders instead, “Look at me. _Please_. Because unless you let me in, unless we’re in this as partners; this won’t happen at all. I can’t be with someone who doesn’t trust me.”

“ _I trust you_ ,” Rip said vehemently. “It was never a matter of trust, Sara! You were my second. I trusted you above anyone, to have my back – to look after the entire timeline.”

“But you didn’t trust me with my own life.”

“I was wrong,” Rip admitted. “It was your life, and it should have been your choice to be time scattered or to remain on the ship. My only excuse is that I was afraid. But I swear it: I will never send you away again.”

“That must have been hard for you to say,” Sara replied, echoing words from what felt like lifetimes ago. They had been in the same room, then. Drinking after a mission. The more things changed, the more they stay the same. A smile flickered on both of their lips, and Rip sank into her a little bit, lifting his head so it was level with her own.

“Actually, it was rather easy.” Rip felt his lips tug up at one side, in a lopsided smile which suited him too well. “You’re usually right, after all. Maybe one day I’ll stop arguing.”

Sara and Rip looked at each other for a solid twenty seconds, before saying in unison: “Unlikely.”

They both laughed, as Sara pushed him away by the shoulder and stood tall again, her hands fiddling with the hem of her shirt as soon as they missed the entanglement inside his. She smiled, but when she looked back at him, she was already creating distance in her mind. _To be continued_ . . .

“Right,” she said, as bright as she could muster. The steps she took back were painful, when really what she wanted was to fall right into him again. “I should go. To do Captain stuff.”

She turned to walk out of the room, but Rip’s voice stopped her short.

“I meant what I said earlier,” Rip called after her. she turned, leaning against the doorframe; he didn’t look at all affronted by her leaving, but there was a glint in his eyes which only seemed to burn brighter when he looked at her, “you really are an extraordinary Captain. I’m glad it was you, Sara.”

“Thanks,” Sara smiled. Dimples appeared alongside the freckles on her cheeks as she pressed her lips together, glowing with the praise. It meant a lot. She was trying her best, but some days it felt like she was holding the team together with sticky-tape and safety pins. Rolling on her feet against the doorframe, the room looked a little bit brighter than it had before. “That means – it means a lot.”

“So . . .” Rip asked, twisting his head to the side in way that could only be described as coy; there was another side of him she had not seen before. “Are you still mad at me?”

Sara cracked up again at that. Laughing out loud before she even registered how to react, she clapped a hand over her mouth and caught sight of his smirking face and _oh, that bastard_.

“Unbelieveable,” Sara said for the second time that night, but with a very different meaning.

As she walked away from the office, she was still laughing, and the hum of Rip’s own laughter chased her down the hallways. She would not tire of hearing it for a long, long time.


End file.
